50 mgs. (or evidence)
sometimes i cannot control my hands. it is frightening.
these hands create. they destroy.
they give and wound.
the world is a wound.
this is language.
this is communication.
he asked whether people truly know one another. whether we listen. really listen.
i think i communicate with my hands.
i connect with my hands.
althou sometimes they seem alien to me.
i shake in my sleep.
they move when i am still.
i have paint in between my fingers and words pressing on my tounge like little knives.
this is not right. i am not well.
i am composed of skin, blood , tissue, water, nerves and deconstructing organs that fail me. that fall down inside my body like bombs. imploding.
darling, things are not right. not right, not right.
xo
but maybe you still love me........a little.
these hands create. they destroy.
they give and wound.
the world is a wound.
this is language.
this is communication.
he asked whether people truly know one another. whether we listen. really listen.
i think i communicate with my hands.
i connect with my hands.
althou sometimes they seem alien to me.
i shake in my sleep.
they move when i am still.
i have paint in between my fingers and words pressing on my tounge like little knives.
this is not right. i am not well.
i am composed of skin, blood , tissue, water, nerves and deconstructing organs that fail me. that fall down inside my body like bombs. imploding.
darling, things are not right. not right, not right.
xo
but maybe you still love me........a little.